


A fool, yes, a fool for you

by AnnMarcus63



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Happy Ending, How Do I Tag, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, I already tag that, Idiots in Love, In Love, Jaskier is fierce, Love Confessions, M/M, Unrequited Love, because the're idiots, but not really, no beta we die like idiots, yelling at each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24195835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnMarcus63/pseuds/AnnMarcus63
Summary: A love confession, an emotionally abused witcher and an insecure bard."Well? aren't you going to say something. Oh! I get it! Let's ignore what happened last night, that's your favorite strategy...”"Could you please stop putting words on my mouth and thoughts on my mind?""Don't give me the opportunity then! Talk!"
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 91





	A fool, yes, a fool for you

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! It's me again!  
> With another un-beta work :) because why not?  
> So sorry, I'm sure there be a lot of mistakes. Be kind to me.  
> The quarantine has giving me lots of time to wrire, lots of tears to shed and lots on anxiety.  
> But hey! geraskier and The Amazing Devil has helping me A LOT.  
> If you haven't heard Joey's and Madeleine's band, please do.

Geralt visited the duchy of Ellander when rumors started to spread about a shadowy figure spotted in some old ruins at the edge of the forest. The inhabitants speaks of men who go to bed healthy, and to be found the next morning lying face up, with snow white faces, cold as the unforgiving winter wind, and completely drained of blood.

"Don't sleep" says Geralt to Jaskier once they rented a room on the local inn. Where - after a tiring discussion - Jaskier agree to wait for the witcher, he also mention something between the lines of _I won't cause any trouble_ , and then add **_If_** _no one bothers me_. It's getting dark, and Geralt knows perfectly well that what he was about to face, he should face it alone.

Jaskier is the always curious and reckless bard in search for at least a glimpse of the creature fighting Geralt. But not today. The witcher can't afford the scratching feeling of worry at the back of his head, every time the bard is near danger, which franckly, it's steadfast situation. Damn human, sometimes Geralt wonders at what point Jaskier started to sew himself on the deepest part of his core without him noticing.

"Oh. You know Geralt, this is the first time you've asked me to wait for you awake, and I'm kinda moved and honestly randy. You softy..."

"You'll die if you do" Geralt interruptes him sullenly. And with that he turns around towards Roach, completely aware of Jaskier’s indignant gasping behind him, Geralt can't help the subtle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, it is always so easy to tease Jaskier; maybe it is wrong to tease him with death and danger but well, Jaskier regularly teases him with basically everything, so they are even.

“What do you mean with _you'll die if you do_ ” replies Jaskier, imitating the witchers' voice almost perfectly.

“Hmm” he grunts.

"Oh no, you're not going to leave me hanging with this recherche piece of knowledge, as blurry and vague as you usually give" Meanwhile Geralt climbes Roach, caressing her velvety neck with affection.

"Who knows? maybe I end up doing something stupid. That's me, the flourish bard who suddenly felt sleepy and went to bed before supper" Jaskier puts himself in front Roach, minding the teeth of course, she likes to bite him from time to time. So alike her owner. Not that Geralt has ever bite him, per se, but you get the meaning. Jaskier senses a sex joke in there, but that was not the time. _The story Jaskier, always go for the story._

"It's an Alp"

"Ok, I love the faith you have in me in deciphering you poor sentences and grunts. Of which I'm quite good as you know, but not this time. Would you care to elaborate my sweet sweet witcher" Geralt gazes at him with _the look_ that mean he was losing the patience, and within seconds of punching him in the guts, again. Jaskier smiles sweetly.

"An Alp is what's terrorizing this place. It kills men in their sleep. I don't know how many there are, so it's better if you don't go to bed tonight"

"Do they live on packs then? And what are they, like bruxaes?" Says enthusiastically while searching in his pockets for the wine color songbook he always carried at hand for this occasions.

"Now is not the time. Move" Jaskier looks up, defiant. Almost instantly Roach lunges forward, succeeding in catching the sleeve of his purple doublet between her teeth. Jaskier squeales almost offended, almost. He hears the small chuckle from Geralt just when Roach start moving.

"Be safe, oh brave witcher" Jaskier scream, waving ridiculously, one hand on his hip, the other on the air, even though Geralt's eyes aren't on him.

He couldn't wait to hear the whole story. He begins composing a song, along with the familiar need to whistle, even with the little information he had. He observes his dear witcher disappearing among the buildings. A story about love, injustice and blood planting its roots on the bard's heart. Perhaps he'd not need Geralt's scarce storytelling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Geralt finds the ruins quite easily, barely hidden from view. It's an old bloodline house, one of the main walls has already been overpowered by cruel weather.

The full moon irradiating softly over the woods, creating the illusion of safety, but not for the witcher. The Alps are stronger on nights like this, taking its power from the moon cycle. The wind blows strongly, carrying foul scents and gutural wails. It knows he's here. He dismounts Roach chanting under his breath to keep her calm. All of a sudden the wails grows in two, three, maybe four. Geralt curse at spotting movement on the corner of his eye. Calmly, he walkes away from Roach, to the small clear outside the ruins. They are trying to surround him, confuse him with noises and movements. But he is a witcher, a mutant trained to eradicate creatures like them. Geralt closes his eyes just as the wind stop howling, to squatted in the middle of the clear, and start making little circles with his fingers on the ground. Yes, they are four of them, leaping around him, conceal by the foliage. They are ready to strike from each flank. Geralt stops breathing, waiting patiently. He feels them before hearing them, running on bony legs, claws and fangs ready to pierce his skin. Maybe he should’ve drank Dark Blood, but it was too late for that now. They are closing the distance, with every step the foul scent grows stronger, and the ground trembles with the force of their rage. And Geralt waits and waits until they are close enough.

Now.

Geralt opens his hand, and raise his palm just above the grass to ignite Yrden. The atmosphere turns heavy, the time seems to grow lazy, trapping the Alps in the magic casted by the witcher. With a clean movement Geralt grabs the silver sword to strike the nearest Alp, severing her redhead with precision. A pair of claws sink into the shoulderplates of his armor, the Alp putting all her weight on him, ready to bite his neck. Geralt sees the other two launching to his chest and legs. He reaches behind to grip a handful of hair and pull with all his might, the Alp falls forward with a pained snarl. Slowly, oh so slowly, he feels an acid pinch on his left thigh followed by the unmistakable sensation of blood rivering down his leg, one Alp clutching violently on the flesh. Geralt punches her in the skull, once without remorse, then protects himself with his forearm from the bite aimed at the tender flesh on his neck from the other Alp. Fuck, he is in trouble. With a guttural growl he uses all his strength to throw the one on his arm, with that he gains the right time to get a good hold of his sword and stab with it at the one sucking on his leg, the body falling with a dry tud. Two more left. Geralt dodge the onslaught of one of them rolling on the grass, they ware too slow, good. He let the other close enough to cut a clean and ugly line on her stomach, deep red dripping from the gash, she's finished. But he's not fast enough for the last one, which launches from behind to tear big portions of skin from his chin to his cheekbones. Geralt manages to grab her hands and twist her so she’d end up lying on the floor. Finally, fucking finally, he grabs the handle of the sword to guide it at the throat of the last Alp. The world quieten around him, the only noise is his heavy breathing and the franetic stomps from Roach at the edge of the clearing. Gradually he senses the poison from the bites traveling in his blood, he is lucky, a couple of seconds more and the poison would be too much to handle without the proper antidote. His face is burning as if someone has ignite it with a torch and pitfire, yes he talk from experience, don’t ask.

He limps towards Roach, who greet him with a minding bump on his shoulder. Damn, the bard will go crazy when he sees the ugly lines on his face.

~~~~~~~~~

"Fucking shat, Geralt, what happened?" Geralt blow air through his nose as he caught Jaskier wrists within a second from touching the witchers’ face.

"I'm already healing"

"You mean you looked worse than this"

It's already late, the inn long sleep by now. And of course the bard have waited for him awake, just like he told him. He feels a wave of affection emanating whiting his chest, against his better judgment, Jaskier was right: he likes him. He fears that sometimes a little too much.

"I'm fine"

"Forgive me if I don't trust in your witchery word for I know better. I'll be back, sweetheart" And with this, he release his wrists from Geralt's grasp and leaves the room. Meanwhile, Geralt proceeds to unbuckle his armor until he is only on his black undershirt and pants. He felt the bite on his thigh sting, and instantly decided not to tell the bard about that one. He breathes methodically, as he was taught so many years ago, to probe for hidden wounds. He finds none, but the shudder on his bones and the worn out on his muscles.

Ten minutes later, Jaskier enters the room, a bucket of warm water in one hand and a clean cloth on the other.

"I'll asked the innkeeper to draw a bath for you in the morning, until then let me clean up those nasty wounds" How can he say no to that stupid face; he nod as he sat on the double hay bed. Jaskier knows vampire wounds needed to be clean as soon as possible due to the potent poison, but Alps are the exception, it's poison isn't strong enough, at least for a witcher.

Jaskier put the bucket at their feet and position himself between Geralt's open legs.

"Oh, wait!" and with a delicate flourish he walks to the small table at the corner, were a small bag is sitting. He searches ridiculously desperate, mumbling obscenities at every wrong object and throwing them at the floor: a red handkerchief, a pair of gloves, a dry and crush dandelion (of course), a strange vial, a big and luxurious pendant (did he steal it?) until finally he squeals with pure emotion at finding a small vial with some kind of balm inside.

"What's that?"

“This, my dear witcher, is a balm I bought from a nasty sorcerer in Wyzima" he's once again between Geralt's legs with a smug face "See? I'm not that useless. Now tip your head" Geralt obeyes, jaw twitching unpleasantly, hands clenched on his thighs. He has never been so freely touched, until Jaskier stamped exasperatedly easy in his life. Like he's always belong there. A wanted pest, who would have guess? Well, pest is an unfair word for the bard, he is more like musk growing on a vapid rock.

He likes to be touched by those strong yet delicate hands, but at the same time a warning sign scream it's red lights on the back of his head: it's a trap! run while you can! he cannot possibly want to touch you without ill intent. But here’s the thing, Jaskier has never touch him with the intent of anything but to be kind and helpful. Geralt doesn't know what bothers him more. In fact, Geralt was very resilient by allowing the bard to touch him on the first years of their travels. But the damn bard was persistent until he accomplish the first touches, ever since Geralt has allowed him to be as touchy as he likes. As long as they're alone.

Jaskier propels the balm on the bed, and then grasp the now wet cloth with one hand and with the other, delicately tilts Geralt's face in the angle he wanted to start cleaning. He press the cloth against the gashes, minding Geralt's reactions looking for any sign of discomfort. Jaskier started on the left side, cleaning carefully. And Geralt closed his eyes, sinking on the sensations: clever fingers caressing the curve of his jaw, the slight burn under the cloth, the small puffs of air coming from the bard’s nose (he's so close. Why's he so close? is he not disgusted?). Jaskier starts to hum a song under his breath. It's always been curious how his mouth could never stay shut for two minutes, but in moments like this, tending Grealt's wounds, he is quiet, pleasantly quiet.

Jaskier repeats the process a couple of times, clean, drop the cloth on the bucket, rinse it and repeat. The sweet vibrato of the humming and the wispy touches drives Geralt to slumber, until Jaskier pass the wet cloth over his tired eyes. Against all his barriers Geralt chuckles, slapping the bard's hand away.

"Don't sleep on me you brute. I'd hate to burst out laughing when – if – you fell flat on your face. oh the scenery! I can almost hear the songs bursting from my chest to every tavern. Oh and the laughs!”

"You're too soft for that"

"Soft? oh my dear witcher, a certain Valdo would disagree with you. The poor thing will think twice before wearing a red doublet, it lusters the ugly red on his pork cheeks. Don't you agree? anyway you're right, I'd never do that to you. I'd only compose the song just for our ears” Geralt rolls his eyes fondly, meanwhile the bard reach to open the vial. "Now stay still. It may sting although the sorcerer said otherwise, but let's be careful yeah?" with his index and middle finger he begins applying the cream, it smell like herbs, wood and animal oil, and behind those smells, wet leaves, morning breeze and cotton flower: Jaskier's unique scent.

It didn't sting, not really, the wounds are healed enough to avoid it, but he didn't mention this to the bard. Jaskier smiles him down once he's finish, adoring and patient, always pacient, Geralt couldn't help to smile back. Jaskier, in tenderly consideration, pass his hand over the witchers’ forehead to rest it on his jaw, just under the red gashes. It's an unnecessary caress, Geralt knows it, Jaskier knows it. But neither comment on it.

"My mother used to kissed my forehead every time I got hurt. Should I kiss you better, darling witcher?"

"Back off, bard"

Jaskier step aside with a mischievous laugh.

~~~~~~

The next morning, after a well deserve bath, Geralt picks up his stuff and Jaskier's and goes down the stairs to be received with a childish yelp.

"Geralt! Good, you're done, listen ..."

"Move," says Geralt while heading to the stables

"No, listen, I already collected the reward from the foreman and prepared dear Roach for the road. Is that my lute? oh you're so kind Geralt, I thought I'd need to..."

"No" Answers suddenly Geralt. Roach neighed in delight at his owner, bumping her nose against his shoulder. Her ears turns toward the incessant chatter, Mare and master sharing a resigned look.

"What do you mean with _no_?"

"It means _no_ to whatever you're going to asked"

"You wound me, Geralt. I'm wounded and moribund thanks to your misplaced accusations! I did those things because I'm just that good. Always caring, unlike others" Says with a high pitched voice and the most ridiculous facial movements, this is how Geralt always knows when the other is lying. The witcher drills him with an exasperated look.

"Ok, ok here's the thing. It's spring yes? and we're at Ellander. Not far from here is the temple of Melitele, and well ummh today is the godess festivity. And I may or may not have been invited to play in it"

“No” And with this Geralt grabs Roach's reins to took her outside

"No, listen! listen! I must attend. Melitele’s calling me, I can feel her sexy calling on my bones."

"Go alone, then"

And then Jaskier stood in front of him, just like the day before. And points him with an elegant finger.

"You my friend are really a brute. I want you to accompany me. Please, pretty please? Every talented bard has to sing at least once on this celebration. Please! I won't ask for anything else on the next months"

"Months? how long are you planning to pester me around"

"Please?"

"So your plan to come to Ellander due to the monster infestation is only a cover up"

"No, that one is real, but I thought I may kill one bird with two stones. You being the stone"

“…”

“Please”

No. He hated festivals, he hates crowded spaces. Absolutely no.

“Please!” Jaskier howls

"Fine" he hears himself saying

_what?_

~~~~~~~~~

The path is strangely pleasant. The sun drowning the trees and fields with it's soft glow, not too hot or cold, but the perfect amount for Geralt to feel content. And for once the road is freed from any vengeful creature, thanks to the temple's aura, the nearer you got the farther you are from riskiness. Jaskier walks right behind him, strumming with precision the same four notes. He'd turn to demand information about last night's hazard, and Geralt would answer with no more than six words – surprisingly enough for the silly bard –.

They arrived at the temple by midday. A poplar-flanked road guide them to the gate, no far from there. The sanctuary rises from inside the mountain wall. With its huge black gate and gray quarry, the temple is impressive structure to behold.

The festival had already started on the garden outside the main gates. Believers dressed in apricot color gowns, with their faces and arms written with praises for the goddess, crowns of dry nature resting on their heads.

A big circle of rocks and logs rest at the center of the garden and in front of the statue of the deity, after all, the ritual was known for its ceremonial bonfire celebrated at some point of the night.

Geralt isn't well informed about customs, isn't interested really nor curious. A festivity about love, bonds and fertility? A silly endeavour if you ask him.

At that point, Geralt notices the apricot doublet Jaskier was wearing, only reaffirming the bard's intentions to attend, even before they met on the road a few weeks back. Or was it months? Geralt couldn't tell.

Geralt looks down at himself, in all black and in full armor, he winces uncomfortable, there it goes his plan to stay low. At least - smartly- he attaches his swords to Roach's gear, bringing only a silver dagger hidden on the neck of his lef boot.

Like a child with a new toy Jaskier practically bounces of joy.

"You must be the bard everyone talks about" says an old woman

"The one an only" answers the bard with a sunny smile about to break his face in two.

"What are you waiting for then?" A very shocked Jaskier brings out the lute from the case, shoving the latter in Geralt's arms, and flies away towards the garden, fingers already dancing over the chords, chest vibrating in expectation.

"Hello Geralt"

"Nenneke"

"I didn't expect to see you here"

"I was dragged here"

The priestess smile fondly "No one has ever force you to do anything, child. This one must be special" Geralt sends to her a very scandalous expression.

"I should get back. Don't cause any problem" Geralt nods sincerely.

A few feet away is a humble and improvised stable for the few horses accompanying their masters. Geralt urges Roach to one stall ready with a bucket of water and hay. He removes her gear efficiently and delicately, as so many times before. 

With Jaskier's arrival the atmosphere change quickly, the songs pushes everyone to dance in pairs at the rhythm of the bard’s voice. With short spaces between songs to chant praises and ask the goddess favor. Love, safety and fertility.

He watch the spectacle at a safe distance by the sanctuary door, eyes never leaving the bard. The day gaves way to the afternoon, a pleasant chill dropping onto them. And to Geralt's exasperation, the sky begins staining with apricot and blue colors. Highlighting just how silly this day is.

As the tradition indicates, Nenneke emerge from between the tall trees with a torch, burning with the bluest fire Grealt's seen, in her hand. The priestess praises to the statue, before proceeding to lit the impressive bonfire. The logs burning one by one in an accelerated pace, the blue turning up to orange in mere minutes.

There was a conmosion that Geralt couldn't place. Some of them danced, other kneel before the fire to chant, and just a few stick in pairs to hug? to strengthen bonds, Geralt concluded. Nenneke is pacing around, throwing some kind of powder into the fire.

The noises, the singing, the dancing, distracts Geralt just enough enough to lose sight on the bard. He was no longer playing, instead a beautiful brunette girl pray softly with the fire colouring her face.

Where's the damn bard? He hope, really hopea, that he isn't causing any trouble, the trouble being his tongue, and the causing being somebody else's throat.

"Hey" All of a sudden Jaskier is there, right in front of him, how is that he didn't see him coming? "My dear friend, uhmm, well... are you enjoying yourself" He's nervous, extremely so, fidgeting with something between his hands, "It's lovely isn't it? all the smooches does make you want to be the one smooching..? ugh" and Geralt could do nothing but frown "aww fuck it. Here" Jaskier extends his open hand to offer him the object tucked in it. It was a small crown of dead nature, small as his palm, with four flowers tucked in between.

“What’s this?”

"I know I'm not her, not even remotely but..." did he detect insecurity on the bard's voice? how odd, wait-

"Her? wait are you talking about Yennefer?"

"Of course I'm talking about Yennefer..."

"What does she have to do with this?"

"Forget it! just...will you accept it?" Interruptes Jaskier, bringing the crown closer to Geralt.

"No"

Silence

"...why?" Jaskier's voice sounds so small, so unlike him. 

"I don't want it, that's why"

And then something falls apart, something indecipherable. Jaskier's shoulders slump violently, his gaze fell to the floor.

"Right, sorry" Jaskier let fall the crown by his feet, uncaring. And with that the bard returnes to the crowd.

What have happen? Geralt isn't sure, only confused.

He sees out of the corner of his eye someone approaching him.

"I love the festivities. Melitele must be very pleased with us" says Nenneke with a raspy voice "Specially in this moment. The bonfire calls for the most deepest desires, the strongest longings to form unbreakable bonds between the assistants" Slowly, Nenneke pickes up the crown on the floor, dusting it delicately. "This ones are rare. To be offered one of this is a blessing on the act itself. This one, for example, holds four meanings in every flower: Loyalty, friendship, trust and love. To reject this gift, not only means the rejection of the feeling but of the person itself" With every word Geralt feels sick, unworthy. What have he done? "Go after him and apologize" He didn't need to be tell twice. He start to search frenetically for the bard. Where is he? There's too many people, too many scents to discern from Jaskier's. Laughter, joy screams, incessant chatting flowing from everywhere. The sun goes down with every second, soon the bonfire won't be enough for the bard to see the road if he decides to leave. What if he's already gone?

And then a tuned laughter far from the crowd. There, next to the trees, Jaskier is talking with a beautiful blonde woman. The bard sees him approaching, eyes going wide for a couple of seconds.

"We should talk" says Geralt unceremoniously. Jaskier nods, reaching to whisper something to the woman. Geralt goes into the forest far enough to not being heard, Jaskier trailing behind him.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that"

"I didn't know what it meant"

Says both, stumbling with each other words.

Silence. Awkward silence.

"Say what again?"

"I didn't know what it meant"

"Right, ok. But uhmm now...now you know?" Geralt nods, instantly Jaskier’s face goes red, fingers fidgeting with the buttons of his doublet.

"Of course you didn't know! The white wolf has never troubled himself to know insignificant and pompous human traditions" He says throwing his hands erratically to the air.

"Are you seriously mad at me for not knowing what an object meant?"

Jaskier points at him aggressively, then he stop doing it, only to be point at again. It's only then that Geralt notice the considerate space between them.

"It is not just an object. It's a statement! I might as well have given you my poor liver or my beautiful lungs" he stops pointing "but no, I'm not mad at you. You didn't know"

"I didn't know" Geralt repeats. The sun is setting, the bonfire light iluminating their profiles.

"But now you do" replies Jaskier, stripped of the nervousness from before. Slowly, deliberately Jaskier closes the distance playfully.

"So, my dear witcher, tell me what do you think of what I so kindly gifted to you" Geralt's mind goes blank _. It's not fair, no for him._

"I think you're a fool"

Jaskier stops.

"I sense a joke. There must be a joke in there"

"Not a joke"

"Yeah I imagined, something gave it away. Your sour tone, your stupid face, your bull head I'm not sure"

"Jaskier..."

"And why, pray tell, I'm a fool" Jaskier stubbornly stood in front of him, challenging him with frunce lips and ignited eyes.

"You're a damn fool if you think that having feelings for me is a good idea" Says Geralt sharply.

"Guess what, you idiot. I've always had feelings for you. Surprise, surprise! and what are you doing to do about it?"

"You shouldn't"

"Why?" asks Jaskier and Geralt could see how his hands were shaking. Jaskier's hands are always steady.

Shit, he fuck it up.

"Oh I know. I shouldn't because I'm not worthy. No! the piehead bard shouldn't feel anything. Because I lack the killer curves, the power, the purple eyes..."

"Yennefer has nothing to do with this"

"Oh but I think she does. Because she's so perfect so beautiful. Is she worth it, Geralt? Because I never heard you saying how of a fool she was" Jaskier's eyes glinted with hurt and rage, a look never before being directed at Geralt. "I can't love you but she does? Do explain me how is that fair "

"That's not what I said"

"If Yennefer had been the one giving you a crown, you would be full of joy" Geralt feels something crumbling inside him. That's not what he meant nor what he wanted.

"Bard, bard! where's that damn bard" someone started to shout.

"I'm sorry" says Jaskier in a small voice " I acknowledge and respect how much you love her. I'm only jealous" Geralt watchs him go, with a stony smile on his face.

The celebration last for two more hours. And Geralt forces himself to stay and observe the tired and hurtful stance of his bard. It was all on him, as usual. This hands are made for the sole purpose of break. He's always known that. Deep down he knew this dreadful day was inevitable, and forced himself to accept it. What he wasn't expecting is the sinking feeling on his guts, and the urge to mend it.

The road is too dark and dangerous for anyone to go back, so the custom is to sleep near the remains of the bonfire or inside the temple. Jaskier chooses to sleep inside and Geralt follow him, ignoring the indignant looks thrown at him.

He didn't sleep much.

The next morning some of the assistant went to bath in a small pond near the temple, of course Jaskier would join them.

Of course Geralt would follow him.

Geralt says goodbye to Nenneke, she is a fine priestess. She's helped him on a couple of occasions, when Geralt arrived at the temple, bloodied, turned apart and collapsing. She’s one of the good ones. "Fix what you broke" she whispered to him.

He caught Jaskier preparing Roach for the road. Without uttering word the both of them start walking, Geralt refuses to climb on Roach. And he did not offer it to Jaskier, knowing full well that he would be offended.

It was a fine morning, the sky abundant with fat clouds and the wind whistling softly south.

They went on for about twenty minutes. Until the silence is too much for Geralt to bear. What a shock! who would have guess that Geralt would yearned for the noise.

"Are you going to ignored me all day?" apparently Geralt isn't the only one.

"I'm not"

"Well? aren't you going to say something. Oh! I get it! Let's ignore what happened last night, that's your favorite strategy...”

"Could you please stop putting words on my mouth and thoughts on my mind?" Geralt stops, letting go of Roach's reins to face the bard behind him.

"Don't give me the opportunity then! Talk!"

"I don't know how!" Scream, and it was the truth. He's lost.

"Let me help you my dear friend. _Jaskier I don't want you back, please forget every coot feeling you have for me_ " Says Jaskier imitating Geralt's voice with contained anger.

“Stop it” Growls impatient. He wasn't expecting this, well actually yes, everything involving Jaskier is doomed to end up badly. Add an emotionally abused witcher to the mix and you'd get a cursed combination. Also stupid.

"If you don't speak then I'll be irremediable invaded by the shocking need to fill the silence" answers playfully while inspecting his nails.

"Your being a child"

"Oh sorry, does it bothers you? It's my defense mechanism. Besides you're the child here! You only find out that your friend loves you and your natural response is to freak out"

"I'm not freaking out. Besides I suspected it "

Jaskier closes his mouth as if ordered, he shifts on one foot to the other, thinking, yes Geralt could see he's thinking his next words.

"Beg your pardon?" And all that thinking for those three words. "YOU KNEW! Of course, and you didn't say anything. No no no, is better to leave things as they are"

"I wasn't sure. One day you'd give me signs of your feelings and the next you'd be distant and in some strangers' bed"

"Oh and now is my fault?"

"I'm not saying that"

"No, I know" Jaskier crosses delicately his hands behind his back and starts to close the distance, with every dancing step Geralt grow more nervous. "You're saying you allowed all those touches, the looks, the laughs, the pet names, the warm despite of what you suspect" slowly, oh so slowly, Jaskier puts his hands on Geralt's chest to guide them easily to his shoulders. Jaskier's breath tickling his cheek.

"Were you jealous of the strangers, witcher? Let me answer that for you" And just like that, the bard jumps away from Geralt. "No, you weren't. Because you don't want me" he adds with strained voice. 

"Who said I don't want you"

Jaskier's face goes blank and then

"Oh oh oh oh oh no - you're not doing this. A fool you said" He walks pass Geralt moving frenetically his hands on the air.

"You're a fucking fool to fall in love with someone like me" Geralt turns around

"Aww- shut your mouth"

"Why’d you want to be with me? It makes no sense. I can't give you anything but danger, pain and grunts..."

"You've already given me everything I want"

"You deserve better, not this old rag of ancient history. I don't get your reasons…"

"Screw you! my reasons are my own” he says defiant “Well?"

Roach goest for a patch of grass, already tired of the screaming. Geralt looks at the sky as if asking for advice.

"I want you" says with a sigh

"Ha! no you don't!” answers Jaskier while walking away.

"What? Then why give me that damn crown if you already knew the answer?" Jaskier stops, and then slowly turns around to face the witcher.

"I've no idea"

"I want you, Jaskier"

"I don't believe you" and just when he was about to reply Jaskier added "Fucking show me you coward! I’m right here. Show me how much you want me!" says while walking backwards, arms spread at either side of his body.

Geralt feelst a surge of adrenaline flowing his veins, with the need to attacked, to show. And Jaskier noticed this, as if not expecting it, he tenses.

"Fuck" the bard whispers just before running away towards the field next to the road.

"Son of a...." growls Geralt just before launching for the ridiculous bard.

The witcher ramms him from the back. Jaskier squeals as they fall to the ground. The bard twists from Geralt's grasp and manage to escape, he's almost on his feet when a heavy hand seize his ankle and pulls down. Jaskier falls face first on the grass, laughing like a fool (the irony), he feels Geralt crawling up his legs and twisted, to encounter with his love. Geralt is laughing too, his face so open, smiling amber eyes, fangs completely uncovered. And Geralt can't help it, not now, not anymore. He balances himself over Jaskier who's still smiling. Geralt searchs for something inside, a warning, an advice, some kind of sign to pull him away. But he found none. The witcher caress the bard's face with devotion, drowning in his cristal blue eyes and that magnificent scent. Gently, Geralt bring his lips against his love soft lips. The kiss start slow and loving, testing each other with every movement. Jaskier tastes fruity and like music, there was no other way of describing it. And then neither of them could bear the sweetness. They bite and bruised, hands exploring each others body. Jaskier is perfect and Geralt hates himself for holding himself back. It was Geralt who pull away first.

"I want you. I've wanted you ever since you became a man" Geralt may be a monster but he'll never be a pervert looking at an eighteen year old boy’s ass. Jaskier giggles under him.

"Well I've wanted you ever since I saw you brooding on the corner. Does that makes me a pervert?"

"It makes you a damn fool" Jaskier snickers while taking the witchers' face between his hands to kiss him again. Geralt feels a puff of air on his head, followed by a huffy neigh. They both look up to be greeted by a very terrifying horse. They roll away laughing some more.

"Our baby wants attention" says Jaskier cheerfully.

"She's grown tired of waiting. We should get going" Geralt stands and offer a hand to Jaskier who instantly took it.

Geralt leads Roach back onto the road, checks his saddlebags in case something went missing, if Roach’s roll on the grass.

"I'll talk to Yen" Jaskier is next to him, opening his lute case, he came closer to Geralt and squeeze his hand.

"You don't have to" And Geralt feels cold inside "I'll never keep you from her, as much as I think she doesn't deserve you..." Geralt rolls his eyes, fondly. 

"What's your plan then? sharing?"

"I think so?" Jaskier sounds small.

"No" Geralt dragged him by the arm "I'm yours" Jaskier scent changes, like little dots of sunlight embracing his natural smell.

"Thank you" says the bard, taking the witchers' face between callus hands, to place a kiss on his nose "Thank you"

Geralt stumbled forward when Roach muzzle hit his back, causing their foreheads to knock each other awkwardly. Jaskier chuckles before planting another kiss on his witchers’ lips, and continue on walking.

"Come on my dear, our child is already mad at us"

Uh, so this is how happiness feels.

**Author's Note:**

> The last scene is based on a very famous tumblr post which I couldn't find. I'm a dumbass.  
> Well, hope you like it!  
> Comment if you like, please (?)
> 
> https://annmarcus63.tumblr.com/


End file.
